Sun baked mud-bricks encase
the remembrance of light in this
mortared embracement.
So long ago I fixed my determination
to hide my blended face
from the scorn of people who
would shine the flickering lights
of their delighted disgust upon me.

Now I have passed into myth.

But today, into this dreary, dusty dream
comes the scent of a man:
sand and sandalwood and scepticism.
Can he feel my endless animal breath
perfuming these lacklustre walls?
Does he seek my honey, hybrid kiss
light as a floating memory?
Turn my hero, and turn again
in the labyrinth of my unbelievable solitude,
until all reason leaves you.
And you can believe, once again, in monsters.